Montana Summer Ch. 08

"Part of the land is yours, and part is BLM land, I don't know where the gold actually is, and exactly where your land ends, and the BLM land starts," Charlie explained, "All I know is that if word ever got out, people would be cheated, and a place that is sacred to us would be destroyed."

Charlie looked out over the land, and then turned back and looked at Ryan, "Yes, it would help my people, it could do a lot of good if it was used wisely, and it could hurt if it was squandered."

Ryan had visions of hordes of people rushing up the side of the mountain, drunk with gold fever, and not caring who, or what they destroyed, "Does Uncle Bill know about this?"

Charlie shook his head, "I don't know, you are the first person I've ever told since I was told. The chief before me said that he knew your great-grandfather knew, but whether he ever told your father, or your uncle, that's anyone's guess."

Ryan shook his head, "Well, I certainly won't tell anyone," he looked back up at the spot where the horses still stood, and the dream he had about the Wanagi made more sense, and the pouch that he found.

"Charlie, this place is as sacred to me as it is to you, I don't ever want to see anything ever happen to it," Ryan looked Charlie square in the eye, and put his arm on Charlie's shoulder, and in the language of the Lakota, "You welcomed me as a brother last night, and I now give this promise to you as from one brother to another. I will tell no one of what you have shown me. This is my promise, and know, my words to my brother are true."

Charlie put his arm on Ryan's shoulder and replied to him in the tongue of his people, "I hear your promise, and I know my brother's words are true."

As Ryan, and Charlie rode back down the mountain Ryan couldn't help but think that his future here was almost predestined, and he wondered how much control he had over his future. More than once he glanced at Charlie and somehow felt like he had known the old man for most of his life.

"Can you shoot a bow and arrow Charlie?" Ryan asked out of the blue.

"What?" Charlie stared at Ryan like he had two heads.

"Can you shoot a bow and arrow?" Ryan restated his question.

Charlie shook his head and laughed, "My grandfather tried to teach me when I was very young, and that's probably the last time I used one."

Ryan nodded, "Well when I come back in the spring from school I will teach you how to shoot while riding a horse, I remember how," Ryan spotted Walter leading the pack horse up ahead in the distance and tapped Bernie with his spurs, he turned his head and yelled back at Charlie, "But we have to find someone to make up a couple of bows, and some arrows."

Charlie watched Ryan ride ahead, and he chuckled to himself, "Yes we will find someone to make us some bows, and we will hunt buffalo together."

A screeching war whoop pierced Ryan's ears as Charlie went galloping past, Ryan spurred Bernie and away they went, Charlie and Ryan on their horses at a full gallop, whooping, and hollering. Walter heard the noise and turned around he started laughing and shaking his head at the sight of his old father, and the young cowboy acting like little kids.

As they pulled up Walter laughed, "You two find a patch of loco weed out there?"

"Damn, it's a good day to be alive," Charlie laughed.

Ryan's mouth dropped for a moment, it was the very same thing his Uncle had said when they were camping, and he nodded, "Yeah, it is."

He had never felt as alive as he had since coming to Montana. Ryan wondered how he managed to exist before this. Things like television, movies, clothing, cars, or even money no longer seemed important. They seemed trivial in comparison to riding in the mountains, working cattle, or sharing a campfire with friends. He had met more honest people in his brief time here than he had met before in his life.

---

It was late afternoon when they arrived back at the ranch, and Ryan helped Charlie and Walter unsaddle their horses, and to load them into the horse trailer. After all of the gear had been packed into the back of Walter's old pickup Uncle Bill pulled up into the yard.

"Well, how was the trip?" Uncle Bill asked.

Charlie looked at Ryan, "It was good"

Ryan nodded in agreement, "Yes, it really was, I enjoyed that," Ryan turned to Charlie and shook his hand, "Thanks for taking me with you, I appreciate it."

Charlie's eyes were moist as he shook Ryan's hand; "It is me that should be thanking you for what you have done."

Walter walked over to Ryan, "If I don't see you before you head back to school, you take care of yourself, and be true to who you are."

Ryan was a little surprised at Walter's words; it wasn't what he would have expected to hear from Walter. Charlie and Walter climbed into Walter's old pickup and headed down the driveway.

Ryan looked at his uncle, "Well, I guess I should take care of Bernie now."

"Before you do that there are some things I need to talk over with you," Uncle Bill had a serious look on his face, "Come inside, it won't take long."

Ryan followed his uncle into the house, and into his small office, Uncle Bill pointed at a chair, "Have a seat."

Uncle Bill sat down at his desk, and picked up some papers, "I don't know if your dad talked to you before he left about this, but he has had the papers drawn up to sell you his interest in the ranch. All that needs to be done is for the both of us to go into town and see my lawyer, and for you to sign."

"No, dad didn't say anything about it," Ryan replied, he was a bit overwhelmed at the thought of being half owner in the ranch.

"We got a letter from the outfit we sold those cattle to, the ones that Bucky picked up," Uncle Bill held up a letter, "They are offering us a contract to provide them with twelve hundred head of cattle over two years, and with an option for more. I can do it, I will have to hire a couple of hands since both you, and Jessi will be off at school. Since we are partners now, do you have any questions?"

"No, not really, you know what you are doing," Ryan replied.

"Okay, here is something else, Frank and Bucky are offering to give us first chance at buying about twelve hundred acres. It's mostly good pasture, and some it good for haying, and their asking price is good. We have about half the price available in cash, and I have already talked to the bank, they are willing to give us the remainder at good terms."

Ryan shook his head, "Sounds good to me."

"Okay," Uncle Bill nodded, "I'll call Frank and tell him that it's a deal. You will have to sign the papers for the sale, and the papers at the bank. That's all I have, you can go take care of Bernie."

Ryan got up out of the chair, and began to leave the small office when Uncle Bill said, "There is one more thing Ryan. For what it's worth, I am sorry for what has happened. You are the kind of man I always hoped that Jessi would fall in love with, and marry some day. But..."

Ryan looked at his uncle; the look of sadness had returned to Uncle Bill's face, "Thanks, I do appreciate you telling me that."

Ryan walked back out to where Bernie was still tied up to one of the rails at the corral, "Come on Bernie, let's get you cleaned up."

He led Bernie into the barn, removed his saddle, and began to brush him down.

---

Jessi hung up the phone and walked back into the kitchen, Aunt Suzanne looked up at Jessi, "Who was that on the phone?"

"Mike," Jessi sat at the table and took a fresh cookie from a plate and began to eat it.

"Mike who?" Aunt Suzanne asked as she put another sheet of cookies into the oven.

"Mike Johansson," Jessi replied.

Aunt Suzanne sat down at the table, "What did he want?"

Jessi knew where this conversation was headed and there was no way she could stop it now, "He wanted to ask me out, and I turned him down."

Aunt Suzanne looked at her daughter for what seemed an eternity for the both of them; the ticking of the old clock on the wall seemed louder than ever, "Why did you turn him down?"

"Because I don't want to go out with him, I..." Jessi's voice trailed off before she said what her mother didn't want to hear.

"Jessi, you know that there can be no future between you and Ryan. I'm sorry about that, I've been sorry about that night since the night it happened. The only good thing to come out of that night was you. If it hadn't have happened, we would have never had the child your father and I always wanted," Aunt Suzanne's eyes had begun to tear up, "You need to open your eyes, Ryan can never be a part of your life, not in the way you want him to be. You need to try to move past this, and look in a new direction."

Her mother's words stung, worse than any physical lash could have hurt. Deep down she knew her mother was right, but at this time she wasn't willing to admit it. Not while Ryan was still here.

Jessi didn't want her mother to see her cry; she quickly got up and went outside. The sun had just set; the sky to the west looked like it was on fire. She ran to the barn with her mother's words still stinging her ears.

Ryan was just finishing rubbing Bernie down when he saw Jessi come into the barn, he could sense something was wrong, "What's wrong?"

Jessi put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, "Just hold me," she whispered.

She felt so safe in Ryan's arms, there was something about being with him that just seemed to make everything better, "I love you Ryan."

Ryan had his arms around her, "I love you too Jessi, now tell me, what's wrong?"

"Everything, just everything. I want you so much, and I can't have you, not the way I want," Jessi was near tears, and her voice betrayed it.

"I know what you mean, I keep hoping that I'll wake up and realize that it's all just a cruel dream," Ryan answered softly.

Jessi looked up at Ryan, her blue eyes were wet, "If I asked you to run a way with me, would you. We could go somewhere else where no one knows us, we could be together."

Ryan looked at Jessi, his heart was pounding in his chest, "I would Jessi, I couldn't be without you..."

Secrets have been revealed, passed on from one generation to another, and the mountains have whispered. Time grows late; soon the snows will cover the trails, and paths with a thick mantle of white snow. The world may seem to be asleep under a blanket of white, but the power, and magic of the mountains never sleep. How do you choose between what you believe your destiny is, and what you want. Especially when at one time they seemed so intertwined.

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Lyrics to "Fetch Me the Bottle" by Jimmy Pittman